


soar ever upward on air gone black with flies

by scatteringmyashes



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: F/M, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Post-Game(s), Relationship Negotiation, Running Away, Survivor Guilt, Tellius Week 2020, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: It takes twenty-five years for someone to finally tell Naesala that he can't keep doing this. For a beorc, that's almost a half of a lifetime. For a laguz, it's barely a blink of an eye. For Naesala, it's somewhere in-between.****For Tellius Week Day Two: Becomings/Bloodlines
Relationships: Leanne/Naesala (Fire Emblem), Naesala & Reyson (Fire Emblem), Naesala & Tibarn (Fire Emblem), Reyson/Tibarn (Fire Emblem), Sanaki Kirsch Altina & Naesala
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	soar ever upward on air gone black with flies

**Author's Note:**

> Day Two! This is part of my bigger post game canon to my other Tellius Week fic, but you don't have to read both to understand them individually. 
> 
> Title is taken from The Mountain Goats "Transcendental Youth." 
> 
> Enjoy!

Five days after the goddess fails to destroy all beorc and all laguz in her anger, Naesala goes to Tibarn and hands him a scroll tied with a red ribbon.

"What," Tibarn says with a curl of his upper lip and an instinctual pop of his biceps, "is this?" 

"That is my formal resignation as the king of the ravens, and my agreement that you should become the leader of a unified tribe." Naesala smooths some hair behind his ear. "I have spoken with several of my highest in command. They will agree to serve you and I request, humbly, that you keep them around. They know what they're doing better than you." 

Tibarn, for once, ignores the personal attack. 

"Why are you giving me this?" He asks, frown deepening. 

Even in the open space of the meeting room the laguz royals have co-opted in the Cathedral, and though there are only three of them in the room now, it feels cramped. Laguz are not supposed to be in beorc buildings for so long and the iron and stone make Naesala's nose itch. Though it's mid afternoon, long shadows are still cast across Tibarn's torso. 

Behind him, Reyson watches silently. Naesala has no question of whose side he is on. It should hurt, and it does sting a little, but Naesala made this nest so he must live in it — that is the consequence of being king and the reason he is walking away from it.

Not that he tells Tibarn this. 

Naesala rolls his eyes, doing his best to look down at Tibarn even though Tibarn is almost six inches taller. 

"I am abdicating my throne. I am giving up the crown. I am working away from being royalty. Do I need to spell it out?" Naesala is all teeth as he gestures to the scroll in Tibarn’s hand. "I already did, actually." 

Tibarn grits his teeth. Leanne and Apostle Sanaki have both made it clear that Naesala is, at least in their eyes, exonerated from any actions during the war. Even Tibarn has enough respect for both of them to not deliver some traditional hawk justice to Naesala.

Reyson cannot break Leanne's heart.That is the primary reason he does not throttle Naesala himself.

"Why though? You won't even pretend to fight for your position? I thought everything you did was to protect your people and now you give them up?" Tibarn looks like he wants to toss the parchment at Naesala, but it remains crumpled in his hand. 

"They need someone who can lead them in peace as well as war. I adopted a nation mourning thousands, then only a few years passed before war came. I wasn't supposed to be her king." Naesala's face shutters closed, his eyes growing distant. "I led her the best I could. You cannot say you would have done any better. But my crown is stained red and they need to heal from everything, same as anyone else." 

There's silence. It's a gamble, the three of them know it. Tibarn could deny this and force Naesala to either maintain his mantle or abandon Kilvas to the mercy of others. They all know this isn't purely a selfless act. Naesala has a few grey hairs from holding the weight of his nation.

On the other hand, he's made enemies of almost every ruler left on the continent. Apostle Sanaki is, really, the only person between him and a long list of war crimes levelled against his head. That and the fact that he is still a king. 

By walking away from that, he opens himself up to any assassin who can get past his senses. And from the enemies Naesala has made, there are plenty out there willing to take the job. 

"If I accept this, I want one guarantee," Tibarn says slowly. Naesala resists the urge to make a quip about how it must be difficult for Tibarn to think, instead nodding. "You stay. I don't care if you're a beggar or a thief or whatever you want to do with your life, but you aren't running off." 

"Oh? That's awfully sentimental of you," Naesala can't help but croon. 

"I don't trust you where I can't see you," Tibarn states as his excuse. "Reyson, do you have any objections?"

Reyson shakes his head. His wings flex. 

"This building is making me sick," he claims, and perhaps there is a hint of paleness in his already alabaster skin, but Naesala has seen him at his worst and this is not it. "If we are done for today, I want to go on a short flight." 

Tibarn opens his mouth and Reyson, who is already halfway to the balcony, does an eye roll that even Naesala is proud of. 

"Alone, Tibarn." Which leaves Naesala and Tibarn to watch as Reyson throws the balcony doors open, steps out, and launches himself into the air. He transforms with a brilliant white flare and soon there is a heron of Serenes flying freely in the city of the Apostle.

_ Anything is possible,  _ Naesala muses.  _ Even a miracle like this _ .

"Janaff and Ulki will keep watch on him," Tibarn says. Naesala looks at him. "What? You cannot say that you wouldn't do the same." 

_ I sold him to a human for gold. I killed hundreds of hawks to keep my people safe. But I, at least, would let Reyson fly freely. _

"I suppose," Naesala replies. Tibarn doesn't believe him. That's normal. Naesala doesn't always believe himself.

****

Twenty eight days after Ike defeats the goddess, Rafiel, Nailah, and Volug leave with Ulki to cross the desert and bring back the wolf tribe.

"It is time we reunite with the rest of the world. We cannot remain on the edges of civilization when there are those with open arms here," Nailah explains. 

"Ulki can hear danger from miles away and he can hear water from even further," Tibarn tells her. "I trust you to protect Prince Rafiel, but I would be a poor leader if I didn't provide you all the tools to succeed." 

Reyson hugs his brother tightly and the two speak softly in the Ancient Tongue so Leanne, who is anxiously checking Rafiel's pack is not too heavy but also is not missing anything, can understand. 

"Thank you," Nailah says, before discussing the logistics of the trip once more. 

Naesala's not sure why he's there, if he must be honest. He's not close to Nailah. Rafiel and Naesala spoke a bit when they were younger, but largely Rafiel has always firmly been too old and Naesala too slippery for them to get along. 

"It is not too late for me to order the Pegasus Knights to assist you," Sanaki reminds Nailah. Micaiah, her sister in no way that matters, nods in agreement. 

"Sothe and I will return to Daein soon. You could wait for us. It would at least provide company for a time." 

Nailah shakes her head. "Your offers are kind, but this is a trip best left to the laguz." No one argues with her. It's hard to imagine that would yield results, not when the wolf queen's temperament is well-known. 

"We will return soon," Rafiel promises. He looks across the group and his eyes land on Naesala, who gives him a little wave. 

"See that you do. No one wants to go hunting for you in the desert," Naesala tells him. They all would, of course. Even he would take wing to search the desert of death if it came to it. 

Rafiel smiles. "We will return soon," he repeats. 

Ulki and Volug transform. Ulki sails into the sky and Volug explores ahead like a large dog. Nailah and Rafiel walk, hand in hand, a pack on each of their backs and a hopeful spring in their steps. 

It takes so long for them to leave the view of the gathered party. Naesala can hardly imagine them walking across the desert. He's only been there once, at the very edge, and he remembers thinking how easy it would be to get lost there forever. 

He has no doubt that they will make it. They've done it once before. Everything is harder the first time. 

"They will be safe," Micaiah murmurs. "The goddess watches over them." 

Tibarn coughs, but avoids committing blasphemy for once in his life. Sothe says something about how there's a meeting soon, how Queen Elincia wants to discuss border security or something dreadfully beorc and dull. Micaiah and Sanaki take their leave at the same time. Tanith and Sigurn trail after Sanaki like well-meaning nursemaids. 

Nealuchi sighs loudly, though it is a heavy sort of sound and not one made out of frustration. 

"My lady, do you wish to explore more of the gardens today?" He asks Leanne. She shakes her head and states, loud enough for everyone to hear, that she would like to talk to Naesala. "Ah…" Nealuchi is saved from coming up with excuses because Naesala chooses that moment to exit the scene, heading back to the Cathedral.

'"Naesala!" Leanne shouts, picking her skirts up to chase after him. 

Predictably, Reyson and Nealuchi then follow her. 

"Leave him be, sister. If he wants to lurk in the shadows, then I say we let him," Reyson mutters. 

"But…" 

"He has things to do, people to speak to," Nealuchi lies. "I'm sure he will make time for you later." 

Naesala spends the rest of the day lurking in the massive library, the kind with rows and rows of books sprouting lie after lie. He amuses himself scaring the beorc who encounter him and rolling his eyes at the falsehoods rooted in the papers made from the husks of sacred trees. If he thinks too hard about what he's reading, he may start to cry. 

At some point, the little tactician from the famous Greil Mercenaries comes in. They make eye contact and silently agree to sit as far away as possible from one another. 

Leanne does not come looking for him. 

****

After sixty-two days of negotiation, treaty writing and rejection, and mounting tensions over the laguz presence in a beorc city, the bird tribes head home. The beast tribe has already left, save for Skrimir, Caineghis, Ranulf, and a few others who have helped discuss some final details and have always gotten along with the beorc better than any of the birds. But it has been too long since Naesala has been able to really spread his wings without watching the archers patrolling castle walls and it has been too long since he has felt the sea spray salt in his face. 

He’s ready to go home, whatever that even means. 

He takes position in the rear, allowing the other ravens to pass ahead as the flock flies to Kilvas. The hawks will continue on to their island and the details for what happens next will be discussed in more depth then. It's already been announced that he is stepping down. He hardly attended half the negotiations. True to his word, for once, he has not left. He tells himself that it is of his own violation, that he has made this decision because of his honor or because he owes Tibarn, but the truth is none of those things are true.

“Naesala,” Leanne calls, her voice clear across the wind. “Fly with me?” She is graceful like most herons, though her dresses don’t lend themselves to fast maneuvers. Nealuchi lingers behind her, a few wing-beats out of synch. 

Out of curiosity, Naesala scans the horizon for Reyson and is unsurprised to see him spinning casual loops in the air with Tibarn. The two have shifted and it’s clearly no race — even Reyson on his best day cannot hope to match Tibarn as long as he uses both his wings — but it’s a dance. A gentle, beautiful dance between the pirate king of the birds and the prince of Serenes. What Naesala doesn’t expect is for Reyson to call out — a joyous sound that lifts the spirits and wings of the laguz around him — and for Tibarn to call back.

“Nealuchi,” Naesala says, trying his best to keep his voice even, “When did Reyson and Tibarn begin to court one another?”

“I believe it happened when Reyson was in the care of Castle Gallia,” Nealuchi replies. “My lady, you would know more than I in this matter.”

“My brother and Tibarn… their first flight was two years ago,” Leanne confirms. She’s gotten more comfortable in the Modern tongue. Naesala wishes he was better in the Ancient, but it’s been too many years and he was never very good in the first place. Still, Leanne’s never had trouble understanding him. “They are… happy.”

“Good for them,” Naesala tells her. He doesn’t know if he means it. Leanne doesn’t ask.

“What will you do?” She asks instead. Naesala raises an eyebrow. “You are not a king. What do you do now?” 

He shrugs. “Whatever I want, I suppose.” 

This is not an acceptable answer to Leanne, if her frown has anything to say about it. Naesala gestures towards the multitude of other laguz, from those close enough to possibly hear their conversation to the distant shapes on the horizon. Ever present are Tibarn and Reyson, carefree as they celebrate leaving Begnion with more than they arrived with.

Serenes is her own nation, the Bird Tribes are united, and the beorc seem truly sorry for their actions. It’s peace, no matter how tentative. They should be happy.

Naesala wishes he could share in their cheer.

“I have no place here,” he tells Leanne. He ignores Nealuchi’s frown. “This world needs to heal. What can I do for that?”

“Come to Serenes,” Leanne offers. The only response Naesala has to that is laughter. “It is not — I do not joke. You are welcome there.”

“By who? Your brother? Your father?” Naesala shakes his head. “You are too kind. More likely, Tibarn will find a very nice rock where I can perch and fish and die in utter obscurity in a few hundred years.”

Leanne frowns. “I will talk to Tibarn.” She starts to fly faster and Naesala is too stunned to call out to her until it would be too awkward, draw too much attention. 

“Dammit,” Naesala murmurs. Nealuchi just sighs and, with a loud caw, shifts so that he can catch up. There’s no stopping Leanne when she sets her mind to it — Naesala only hopes that Tibarn’s soft side still extends to all the herons and not just the one he’s sleeping with.

Still, Naesala finds himself surprised when, with the birds resting for the night in the forest, Tibarn walks over to him. 

The two just enjoy each other’s company for a moment, which is to say Naesala continues to practice his little sleight of hand tricks with an old coin and Tibarn glares at where he’s perched in a tree. The rest of camp moves just a few minutes away, the fires starting to die down as more and more fall asleep. It’s nice enough that they don’t need shelters and laguz, as a whole, are sturdier than beorc. Still, there’s a few tents — one for the injured, one for Leanne and Reyson, and one for Nealuchi. 

Reyson will end up wherever Tibarn is, the stubborn bird. Naesala tells himself he doesn't care. If Reyson gets a cold, Tibarn is the one who will be insufferable about it. 

Unbidden, Naesala thinks to the last time he had taken care of Reyson while he was sick. As children, he was quite the tough hatchling, but there was one year where everyone in Serenes seemed to be down with some kind of cough. Few died, but Naesala had wrapped Reyson up in the fluffiest blankets he could fly with and told him and the younglings stories for a few days.

Leanne could barely walk then, and Rafiel and Lilla were busy helping heal the terribly ill. Laiel had also been sick, as had Raleigh. 

If they were still alive, Laiel would have been almost 200 and Raleigh would have been… He would have been…

“Tibarn,” Naesala says slowly, ‘Do you remember Prince Raleigh?” 

A moment passes as Tibarn’s lips form a thin line. A laugh peels from the camp. Someone’s brought alcohol — maybe the cherry wine that Begnion, admittedly, does quite well. 

“I never met him,” Tibarn replies. “Why do you ask?”

Naesala sets the coin down. It gleams bronze in the moonlight. There’s the stamped face of some long dead Senator on the side, along with the date it was minted. The coin, Naesala muses, is younger than he is. 

“I don’t remember how old he would be, if he hadn’t died.” 

Tibarn doesn’t seem to know what to make of this. He crouches down and then, with a powerful flap of his wings, launches himself in the air. He grabs onto a branch across from Naesala. In a smooth motion he throws himself onto it, his weight settling heavy on the surface. 

Naesala glares at him. 

"If you knock this tree over, you can explain it to Reyson." 

"We're not in Serenes. The trees here aren't sacred."

"They're still trees." Naesala realizes the stupidity of this argument about the same time as Tibarn. The two sigh. It sounds very similar. "What do you want?" Naesala asks. 

"I wanted to talk." 

Naesala spreads his arms. His wings flex. A few dark feathers float down to the ground and disappear into the leaves. 

"You have my undivided attention." He means it earnestly but, like most things, it comes out with more than a hint of sarcasm. 

Tibarn glares at him. 

"Leanne seems to be under the impression that I'm going to banish you to a deserted island." 

"Ah." Naesala considers his next words. "I may have insinuated something to that effect to her." 

"If I was going to kill you, I would not let you die a quiet death." Tibarn flexes one hand. He keeps them wrapped with old cloth, as if he's ever gotten in a straight fistfight in his life. Laguz don't brawl — at least, the birds don't. "I still want to rip your wings from your body. You're lucky that Skrimir didn't call for your head. He would have no opposition from me." 

"I thought that we had settled this?" Naesala yawns, though he's not at all tired suddenly. "If you are here to threaten me—" 

"You're a bastard and I don't trust you, but you're easy to understand. You like money and shiny things and running away from your responsibilities." 

Naesala frowns.

"I do not," he lies. 

"Yes, you do." Tibarn opens his mouth, then closes it again. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, the other resting across his chest. "I have a job offer for you." 

Somehow, Naesala doesn't fall out of the tree. His eyebrows do rise so high that they almost float off his forehead. 

"Can you repeat that?" Naesala asks, trying to keep his voice level. 

"I have a job offer," Tibarn says through grit teeth. 

"Oh? Is it the royal poison checker? A messenger boy? The local scapegoat?" 

Tibarn breathes out heavily. "I would like you to be an ambassador to the beorc."

Naesala falls out of the tree. 

He squawks, flapping furiously so he doesn't hit the ground. Tibarn watches, unamused, as Naesala perches on the branch. He squints at Tibarn. Bird laguz don't have great night vision, but Naesala doesn't need to see in the dark to see that Tibarn is actually blushing. 

"What kind of joke in this?" Naesala demands. 

"I'm serious." 

"Yes, and I am the king of Daein. Now, who put you up to this? Ranulf? That cat thinks he can get his paws in everything—" 

"No, he has nothing to do — why would I listen to him?" 

"Or was it Sanaki? She did threaten to make me stay in Begnion. I didn't think she was serious." 

"I made this decision, Naesala. In fact, I asked what the ravens and hawks of the council thought. Very few disagreed."

Naesala can read between the lines. "So all the hawks disagreed and the ravens agreed?" 

Tibarn hesitates. That's all Naesala needs.

"You don't owe me anything. You don't even like me. Why are you offering me this? How can you trust me with this? What if I betray you again? What if I betray everyone?" Naesala has no intentions of doing so, but he doesn't even want the opportunity. He wants out — no more rulership, no more responsibility, no more reason to kill his fellow laguz or lead them to their deaths.

He's done. He's been done for years. If he never has to make an important decision in his life, it's too soon. 

"I don't want your job," Naesala spits. "I killed your citizens, Tibarn! Now you want me to advocate for them?"

"You would do anything for Kilvas. You did the most disgusting, morally corrupt things. You lied, stole, and killed for the chance at a better future." Tibarn swallows. The vein on the side of his neck throbs. "I hate you for what you did, but you did it not for personal gain, but for your country. We could use someone willing to do anything to protect his kingdom." 

"No one will respect me. I'd be lucky to even get through the front door." 

"Apostle Sanaki respects you as much as she respects anyone. Queen Micaiah was also under the burden of a blood part. Queen Elincia would not want to offend the laguz by rejecting you. Skrimir will get over it." Tibarn stands. His wings flare out, stretching his perpetually open jacket. Naesala sees a glimpse of the scars that run jagged across Tibarn's chest. One day, he'll ask if the rumors are true. Maybe when Naesala has a head start of a hundred wingbeats or so. "Think about it. I'll ask again when we arrive in Kilvas." 

He jumps out of the tree. Naesala watches him fly back to the camp.

****

Naesala accepts. Tibarn doesn't seem surprised. Reyson's also there when Naesala is appointed and he gives Naesala a funny look, as if Naesala smells or has a third eye somewhere. 

His first task is Begnion. Serenes is being returned to the birds, but with that comes the complex discussion of how things will be handled. Will traders be allowed through? How will the boundaries be defined? It turns out that there's a lot involved when it comes to redefining a border. 

He also finds out that Reyson's reaction is due to the fact that he is also going to Begnion. It makes sense. One cannot discuss Serenes without the heron prince. 

Things go well. It helps that Begnion's guilt runs deep and Sanaki isn't particularly interested in fighting anything. Still, there's something particularly awkward about negotiating next to Reyson. 

He's perfectly polite in public. In private, they don't talk. Naesala doesn't push him. That wouldn't be fair. 

At least they have separate rooms. Naesala doesn’t have to worry about bothering the white prince with his dark nightmares. 

"Sir Naesala, the Apostle would like to speak with you," Commander Sigurn says after one meeting. Naesala raises an eyebrow at her. 

She was not in the room a moment ago. Most of the beorc are still gathering their things. Reyson is pointedly not looking in their direction as Janaff babbles about something unimportant. Ulki is off doing something for Tibarn. Naesala probably should know what. He bets Reyson knows. 

Sigurn politely clears her throat. 

"Sir?" 

"Yeah, I'll talk to her." Naesala turns away from the other two. "What does the Apostle want anyways?" 

"It is not my place to ask her such things." Sigurn leads him out of the room and, rather than towards the throne room, towards the gardens. Naesala steps two paces behind her, his dark wings casting quite the shadow in the brightly lit halls. "How have you and Prince Reyson found your quarters?" 

"They are sufficient." Naesala doesn't really enjoy small talk, though he knows it's all the rate with beorc. "Pardon my curtness — I did just spend three hours discussing fishing etiquette." 

Sigurn throws him a small smile. "It is understandable, Sir Naesala. I take no offence." 

He doesn't bother to tell her to drop the honorific. It's a silly beorc thing, he's found. If he's got to go by anything, at least  _ Sir _ is more bearable than  _ Lord _ or, Goddess forbid,  _ Your Highness. _

Sanaki is sitting at a chess table. Naesala's no good at chess. He knows Sanaki is worse.

She doesn't look up when he sits across from her. Tanith hovers behind her, looking bored but still attentive. 

"Thank you, Sigurn. You and Tanith may leave." 

Both Pegasus Knights freeze. Even Naesala raises an eyebrow. 

"Are you sure that is wise, Apostle? Sir Naesala is technically a foreign diplomat now, your past position as his superior aside." Sigurn makes it sound much nicer than it was. Naesala doesn't bother correcting her. 

"I am certain. An Apostle is allowed to discuss matters with a diplomat without babysitters. Besides, Naesala is also my friend." Sanaki announces this without a care. Naesala, who was considering his chances of pocketing the king to give it to Tibarn as a gag, drops the piece on the ground. "I'll call when I need you," Sanaki continues. 

Tanith looks at Sigurn. Naesala looks at Sigurn. He respects the fact that Sigurn looks back. 

She ends up bowing, murmuring her acceptance, and withdraws. Tanith follows, the two melting into the background.

A moment passes. There's a fountain just out of view. Naesala can still hear it gurgle. 

"You know that they're both listening," he says in lieu of a proper greeting. 

"Of course they are." Sanaki yawns. Now she looks up at him. "How are the negotiations going?" 

"They go well. Hopefully we will be in an acceptable place in a week or so." Naesala examines the chess board. "Do you like chess?" 

"No. It's dreadfully dull and complex. I have better things to do," Sanaki replies, as if she isn't competent with magic that fully grown men struggle with. "I want to know how a king ends up an ambassador." 

Naesala sighs. "I abdicated. Nothing interesting. I didn't even get into a fight." 

Sanaki stares at him. 

"This may sound odd, Empress, but some people don't want to rule."

"It does sound odd." She frowns. “I wanted to make sure that there was nothing… untoward about the process.” Apostle Sanaki is  _ worried _ about him. Naesala would be touched, except he also feels a little insulted.

His upper lip curls. 

“I am not a child. I don’t need a beorc leader watching out for me.” He crosses his arms. It’s probably not as threatening as he hopes. That’s always been Tibarn’s specialty. “There is nothing I need from you except a treaty to be signed between you and the United Bird Tribe.” 

Sanaki shrugs. Her eyes fall back to the chess board. “Good.”

The game is half-finished. Naesala wonders if he’s supposed to pick up where she left off. When Sanaki picks up one of his pieces and moves them, he decides it’s best to leave it to her. The fountain continues to flow. After a moment, Naesala asks,

“Was there anything else you wanted from me?” It’s a bit rude, but he’s been nice enough in meeting after meeting. Sanaki can cope with a bit of bluntness. 

She frowns, narrowing her eyes at him. “Did you not want to play?” 

“I think you’re managing just fine without me,” Naesala points out. Sanaki looks down. It might be Naesala’s imagination, but one of the bushes shakes. He decides that it’s probably best not to antagonize the ruler of the nation he’s stuck in for the foreseeable future. “I’m no good at this game,” he admits, casting his eyes over the pieces. 

“Really?’ Sanaki sounds surprised. He wonders what that says about him. 

“It’s a boerc game. We — at least among the bird tribe — don’t really play.” Naesala feels a smile tug at his lips. “There’s a set in Castle Kilvas, but it doesn’t have all the pieces and none of us knew how to play, so we made up the rules.”

“How do you play that version?” Sanaki asks. Naesala waves a hand. He uses his other to slide a pawn forward, trying to slip it under her nose. When he goes to move a bishop, Sanaki’s glare is hot enough to match any fire tome. The piece does not get moved.

“Well,” Naesala tells her, leaning back so she can make her move, “For one, you need to get rid of about half these pieces. Oh, and get me ten gold pieces.” 

Sanaki holds her hand out in the direction of the bushes. Without an ounce of shame, Tanith emerges from behind it and deposits ten gold pieces in her hand. Naesala grins at her. Tanith looks a little like she’d prefer to cut out her own tongue. 

“So the gold must be to replace the pieces we are removing—” Sanaki begins, placing them on the board. Naesala shakes his head, holding out his hand. “What?” Sanaki wrinkles her nose, looking every bit the petulant child she can be. Oh, Naesala respects her — the burden of rule is difficult on everyone and she does her best to be a good little Empress — but she’s still a child. 

“The gold is my fee to teach you how to play Raven’s Cross.” 

Sanaki stares at him. Then she breaks out into laughter, the sound peeling high into the sky before being whisked away by the gentle breeze. 

“You never change.”

“Never,” Naesala agrees. 

Sanaki gives him the gold. He teaches her how to play the game. He only cheats a little.

****

Reyson and Tibarn are not courting. It’s the biggest joke in Naesala’s life — and he’s seen some good jokes. Been the source and butt of them, all at once. Still, he knows better than to prod too much. There’s something complex, something he’s no longer privy to hear. Somewhere between selling Reyson to a beorc and being responsible for the cold-blooded murder of half of Tibarn’s comrades, the two have stopped talking to him about much. 

Naesala doesn’t take it personally. 

It has been years since the Wolf Tribe crossed the desert of death and settled in Gallia when Naliah officially abdicates her crown and passes power to a council of other laguz. It's only a few months later — minutes, a blink of the eye for laguz — that Naliah announces that she and Rafiel are trying to have children.

Leanne is delighted. She tells the two of them everything she can remember about her childhood, which is a surprising amount. It also includes a lot of embarrassing stories about Reyson and Naesala, which is his excuse for keeping himself scarce over the next few years. 

"Don't worry, I'll be back," Naesala tells her with no intention of returning. 

Reyson gives him a look from across the room, almost a vengeful shadow whenever he's within ten meters of Leanne. 

"Okay. Naesala stay safe," Leanne replies. He hugs her. 

"I will." Naturally, he first goes to Daein. Then he goes to Crimea. 

He prefers Daein. At least there people are open about their hatred. He knows that everyone wants to stab him in the back. In Crimea, they pretend to be charmed and try to slip poison in his food. 

Naesala doesn't like the cold. During winter, he travels down south and visits the little colony that has sprung up in Begnion, but he doesn't like to stay long. He enjoys how everyone leaves him alone, but try as he might he can't shake the sensation that swims up his spine every time he steals a glance at the wrong citizen. 

Besides, he doesn't belong in the desert. He knows he doesn't.

He doesn't completely fall off the map, as much as he would like. Janaff tracks him down the first month with a letter and a promise that Tibarn will hunt him down if Naesala doesn't stay in touch. 

"He said something about remembering your last conversation?" Janaff scratched his back, reaching between his wings. "If you don't answer, he's going to come find you himself."

It's a five day flight from Serenes to Daein. Tibarn can do it in three. Naesala decides not to push his luck and promises to write. 

So over the years, Naesala writes letters. Usually he sends them with beorc traders. Sometimes he can get a laguz to do the dirty work, as they're faster. The majority of them know who he is, though, and he's not certain all the letters get through. 

Other than that he keeps himself scarce, sometimes getting actual assignments but mostly mooching off goodwill and guilt. He’s good at that. He does check in once when Rafiel and Nailah have the twins and once more when Leanne announces that Tibarn and Reyson have adopted a child. Considering that Naesala didn’t even know they were married, it’s a shock.

“We are not married,” Reyson says as Tibarn claims that the child is not his. “I hate to disappoint you. I’m sure that your trip here was very long and difficult, seeing as you have not visited in almost ten years.” 

Naesala winces, but he deserves that one. He gives Reyson a false grin, fooling no one.

“Well, when two of my favorite people announce that there’s a plus one in their family, I had to see what it was about.” He pushes some hair back, trying not to feel self-conscious about the fact that this  _ is  _ the first time he’s seen either of them in a while and they both look much better than him. 

Tibarn’s actually taking care of himself now, what with his tight ponytail instead of a mess of knots and dead ends. He looks even more massive, which is a shock. Many of his scars have healed, though not the two that stand white across his chest. Naesala knows better than to ask, since the answer is right in front of him. 

Reyson was not always called by his name, after all, and ravens always say that dark wings attract dark beaks. 

Speaking of Reyson, his features have sharpened. He will always be a little soft, the consequence of being a heron, but he looks wiser. Less angry and more intelligent. His stubborn nature is still there, Naesala can feel it like an oncoming storm, but it’s temprede by patience. 

He looks really good. Naesala will always think that, even if he doesn’t love him the way he used to.

“How long are you staying?” Tibarn asks. “You can meet Tyto if you want.”

Naesala’s grin grows. “I thought you didn’t have a kid.”

“We don’t,” Reyson insists. 

“He is more of my student,” Tibarn explains. He gestures vaguely, as if the walls of his personal office will hold the anwer. Naesala raises an eyebrow. “Well, we have to make sure that the next generation of chicks have someone raising them since most of their parents are dead.” 

_ Ah. _

“I should go,” Naesala says, not interested in a fight. “Tell Nailah and Rafiel that I said hello. I’m sure that the pups are adorable and you wouldn’t want my foul visage upsetting them.”

Reyson actually looks panicked, stepping forward even as Naesala moves towards the door. It’s a hawk construction in the side of a mountain — the door is just a sheer drop hundreds of feet to the seaside. Nothing for a bird laguz. 

“You just arrived,” Reyson points out. Then he seems to remember who he is talking to and his face closes off again. “If you want to stay.” He mutters something under his breath that Naesala pretends not to hear. 

Naesala is curious enough at the change of heart that he ends up agreeing to stay another night. He isn’t too brave to end up ambushing Reyson then, sometime between dinner and Reyson creeping from his bedchamber to Tibarn’s. 

Of course, Naesala has to tease him about it and asks where he’s going with a sly smirk. Reyson meets his look head-on.

“To fuck Tibarn until we fall asleep,” he says, which is not at all what Naesala was expecting. He hides his surprise with a lavish bow.

“Understood.” He doesn’t let Reyson pass that easily though. “Why did you want me to stay? And if you mention your chick then I am leaving and never coming back.” 

“He is not our chick,” Reyson argues, before sighing. “I do not care what happens to you. I would prefer you disappear and never return. Tibarn—”

“Yes, yes. Tibarn doesn’t trust me so he wants me around, much to your utmost loathing. I know. I exist to aggravate you. So?” Naesala cocks an eyebrow. “Why invite me to stay in your glorious castle?” 

“... Leanne misses you,” Reyson admits. Naesala tries to ignore feeling like he was just punched in the gut. 

His bravado seems to have disappeared, falling into the same pit that has opened up in his stomach. Reyson licks his lips.

“I’m leaving now, and you can interrupt me and Tibarn at your own risk.” 

“I’m happy for you,” Naesala calls after him. Reyson’s steps slow, but don’t stop. “He seems like a brute, but I guess that it’s better than the alternative.” 

“He is an honorable man.” The fact that Reyson doesn’t say  _ unlike you _ is Naesala’s cue to drop it.

Naesala doesn’t go back to sleep. He takes off that night instead, packing his meager belongings and risking the danger of a night flight. He’s memorized the route, of course, has flown it many times. 

His heart yearns for Serenes. He goes to Kilvas instead. 

There’s no one in Castle Kilvas. There’s seagull feces everywhere and the mountain goats have started to take over what used to be the grand hall. He remembers eating them and thinks that, for all their flaws, the beorc at least cook well. 

His bedroom is still untouched, locked tight from the last time he left. He’s a little surprised no one tried to force it open, but decides not to dwell on it too long. He falls asleep in dusty sheets and dreams of green trees. 

****

When he wakes up, there’s something wrong. Someone is singing softly in the throne room. He recognizes the voice and briefly considers running before deciding that it’s been long enough and he can keep it together for long enough to let Leanne down gently. 

If Reyson looked good, Leanne looks stunning. She’s in long white robes and her hair is elegantly braided, the style similar to what her mother would have worn. She’s taller than he remembers and, when she sings, her voice is confident and strong. There are birds perched on the ground around her and a goat has come to rest its head in her lap. She strokes it behind the ears with long, slow brushes of her fingertips.

Naesala wonders what it says about him that he’s jealous of a goat. 

He doesn’t interrupt her, though he’s certain she knows he’s there. One of the birds looks at him and ruffles its feathers. He begins to preen his own wings, stretching them out and examining them for any broken feathers. It’s a slow process, something meant for two but he’s gotten good at doing it alone, and it’s easier with Leanne singing. Even if it’s not a Galdr, it’s still invigorating. 

He doesn’t know what she’s singing about. He can’t understand her. It’s been a while since he’s spoken in the Ancient Tongue and longer since he’s heard poetry in that language. That doesn’t make him feel better, but that’s his excuse. 

When she finishes, she stands up. Naesala begins to clap. A few birds fly away, startled. 

“You are beautiful as ever, Leanne,” he says, which isn’t a great start when he intends this on being a conversation about how he can’t be with her. To call it overdue would be an understatement. 

Before he can even open his mouth, Leanne crosses the room and slaps him across the face.

“You are a big idiot,” she says. Her eyes glisten with tears, but by the way she’s holding her hand it’s not because she missed him all that much. 

“I — I suppose that statement may have some merit,” Naesala gasps out as he cradles his face. “Did Tibarn teach you that?” 

“Nailah,” Leanne reports, puffing up with pride. “She suggested to me that I speak with you directly, but Naesala has been making himself very difficult to find.”

“Yes, well, I would have made myself even scarcer if I knew you would attack me,” Naesala quips. “Is your hand hurt?” 

“I am talking,” Leanne tells him. He mimes stitching his lips closed. “You cannot keep running. Naesala needs his flock. Not to be alone. You cannot forgive yourself if you do not stay and heal.”

  
“I don’t deserve healing,” Naesala interrupts. He’s never been good at keeping his beak shut. “Your brother and his paramore have made their feelings on the matter very clear.”

“Will your misery bring back the people that died?” Leanne asks. 

  
Naesala sighs. He tugs at his tunic. “That’s not the point. I’m not a good person. This isn’t penance for my actions. I don’t think that exists. I just don’t care to ruin your life.”

“You are only hurting people by running. Many people care about you. I care about you.”

“The feelings you have for me are those of a little girl. I’m not the same raven I used to be.”

Leanne nods. “And I am not that girl. You and Reyson grew up. Why can’t I?” 

It’s a good question. Naesala doesn’t have an answer. 

“You deserve better than me.”

“I do not want someone else. I want to dance with you.” Her wings flutter, the white plumage expanding and contracting. A single feather drifts from the collective and rests on the ground. “I am not a little girl. I can make this decision myself.” She takes a step forward and Naesala, as always, takes a step back.

“And I can make the decision to say no,” he says, though he knows that there’s no hiding the ache in his heart. 

“Why do you say those things? Why are you scared of me?” Leanne frowns, the expression drawing her brows down so she looks almost comical. If Naesala weren’t certain she was serious, he’d laugh. 

"I'm not scared of you," Naesala says, and it's a half truth like the idea that he never loved Reyson or the fact that he can never be redeemed. 

"But you have been running from me. Why?" And when Leanne looks at him like that, how can he say anything else?

“Because you have the possibility of making me happy, Leanne, and the thought of that sickens me. I’m not good. I’m poison. I seep into every crevice and crack and rot things from the inside out. I would burn down a hundred of Serenes Forests if it kept the people I care safe. Don’t you understand what kind of a person that is?” 

“Yes.” She crosses the space between them with haste, places a hand on his chest, and — 

Her lips are soft. She smells like the forest and a thin undercurrent of rosemary. 

He takes her wrists and gently pushes her away. 

"You don't know what you're asking," Naesala insists. 

"I do not care what they think. Naesala is a good man." 

"Naesala is broken. You expect to build a nest with him? When he can't even stay in one place?" 

"I expect Naesala to heal and remember the person he is in here." Leanne presses her hand to his chest. She sounds so certain. 

Naesala sighs. "The man you grew up with doesn't exist anymore. There's no uncovering him." 

"I do not expect him. I expect who you are now." 

"This is pointless." Naesala pulls away, striding across the room so he can focus his glare on his dusty throne. It's got a low back and high armrests, perfect for large wings and lounging comfortably. In the morning light, it looks almost haunted. 

He feels haunted. Empty inside, a ghost wandering dusty halls. He's not sure what Leanne is sensing or claims to sense, but it would be uncharacteristic for her to lie. She's perfectly capable of it — days of batting her eyes at others in order to get another treat after dinner or to get out of doing chores come to mind — but it's not her style to lie about people. 

That's Naesala's job. 

"I cannot make you come back with me," Leanne slowly concedes, "but I can promise that there will always be a place for you in Serenes." She leaves. 

Naesala waits. He collects his things and, with an anguished  _ caw _ , flies away. He does not go to Serenes. 

****

He's still an ambassador, so he's still writing reports and keeping up with nobility and his own responsibilities. It's why he's not surprised when he is ordered to attend Apostle Sanaki's twenty-five years celebration. She has been ruler now over a peaceful, kind Begnion for half a beorc's lifetime. It feels like a blink of an eye to most laguz. Naesala's not sure he's aged a day. 

But it's important to beorc and Naesala still has a soft spot for the little girl he helped protect so he goes and doesn't sneer at the guards and plays nice with Ranulf — who is there with Skrimir — while the beorc sort out where Naesala is going to stay.

"So were you actually invited or did you just show up?" Ranulf asks, tossing a ball from one hand to the other. He's spread out across a couch, looking content to wait while his issue of missing luggage is sorted out by others. 

The beast laguz have always aged faster than the birds, but it's like saying one iceberg is faster than another. Ranulf's maybe a bit softer, a little less lean, but that's about it. He is the same slippery advisor that Naesala knows is more intelligent than he lets on. Still, peace has done him good. 

"I am an official ambassador from the United Bird Tribe," Naesala replies. 

"So you were not invited." 

"I was invited." Naesala realizes he's puffing his chest up, which is perfectly acceptable among other birds but no one else seems to understand. He lets the air out in a huff. "They just didn't know when to expect me." 

"Uh huh." Ranulf shrugs. "I'm not paid enough to tangle myself in your problems. Just know that Skrimir is still angry with you. I'd avoid being alone with him." 

Naesala rolled his eyes. "Yes, I was planning on leaving myself open to an attack by one of the most stubborn brutes of the Beast Tribe." 

"That's my king," Ranulf protests, brow furrowing.

"Oh, yes. One of the most stubborn and powerful brutes." 

Ranulf shrugs. He can't say more, because a beorc servant comes in and announces that a room and bath has been prepared for Sir Naesala. 

"Have a good day," Naesala tells Ranulf. He doesn't really care and Ranulf doesn't reply. 

His rooms are actually nice. Nicer than he deserves, but he won't complain. Especially not when the pipes have a rune on them that heats the water and the bath is actually large enough for him to stretch one wing at a time. 

He's just drying off when there's a knock on his door and a voice tells him that the Apostle has requested his presence immediately. It feels like bad form to turn her down on the day before her celebration, so Naesala finishes preparing himself and answers the door with an exaggerated flourish. 

"Well, take me to her then," he says to the servant. She must be new because she doesn't seem all that perturbed by the fact that he's a raven. 

It's a short walk to the drawing room in question. Sanaki is sitting at a chess table while Sigurn leads a book and Tanith stares out a window. 

At least, it must be Sanaki because she's wearing the proper robes and her hair is the right shade of purple but — 

Well, Naesala forgot how quickly beorc age. 

"Naesala," Sanaki calls, looking at him stare, "I will have you know it's still rude to stare at people, even if it has been over twenty years." 

"My apologies," Naesala replies, "I just find myself surprised. I would have thought that you would forever only come up to my knees." He smiles, though, and Sanaki laughs rather than get offended because she's not that little girl anymore. 

She's old enough to be married, Naesala considers as he sits across her at the board. He doesn't think it's surprising that she's chosen to remain independent for as long as possible. 

"I found someone who knew Raven's Cross," Sanaki explains as she begins setting the board. "Will you play a round? For old times sake?" 

Naesala nods. "Won't someone get mad if they find out you're spending time with a disgraced ambassador?" 

"Hardly. It's my celebration tomorrow. I will socialize with people then." Sanaki looks at him with a careful gaze. "You have been a mystery for many years. I heard you spent quite some time in Daein."

"The weather suited me." Naesala slides a piece forward. She doesn't blink at his lie, but the quirk of her upper lip gives her away.

"I find your… missions are beyond my understanding," Sanaki teases. "The Bird Tribe hardly needs another ambassador when they have Prince Reyson. He is a well-spoken person with an iron will. He has secured safety for the Tribe for generations." 

"Beorc generations, perhaps. Us laguz tend to think a bit more long-term," Naesala gently corrects. "I'm surprised you wanted to see me. Was it really just for a chat?" 

"You're getting rusty if you're being so direct," Sanaki comments. 

"Just impatient in my old age," he replies. He grins. It's all teeth. "My apologies, Apostle. It's been quite some time since I've been in such an illustrious presence." 

"Well, let me get to the chase." Sanaki crosses her arms. "I speak often with Princess Leanne, you know. Or, perhaps not often, but frequently enough. She said she last spoke with you two years ago and that you ran away from her." 

Naesala wonders if it's too late to jump out the window and save himself the trouble of a lecture. 

"Perhaps. It was a long time ago. I don't think of it much," Naesala lies. 

"Begnion has a debt that can never be repaid to the herons of Serenes. Beyond that, I have come to consider Leanne someone I hold dear. Reyson may be the political force, but Leanne is not too proud to speak to us beorc." Sanaki glances at Sigurn, who does not look away from her book. "Sephiran — Lehran — visits. It does not feel right for me to enter Serenes, but he comes and we keep in touch." She is too old to fidget, but her eyes flick down to the board and then back at Naesala. 

He shrugs. "I have only spoken to him once." 

"He says that you are an idiot for denying yourself peace," Sanaki tells him. 

"I think that he is not allowed to decide whether or not I deserve peace," Naesala huffs. "Birds in nets should not chide those who fly free." 

Sanaki snorts. It's very unladylike and very characteristic. For a moment, Naesala can still see the child he knew. 

"I'm not going to order you around—"

"Good, because you are not my queen."

"— but I will never understand why you don't actually make an effort. You have a second chance. Many will never get that."

"Many will never get a first one because of me, or have you forgotten my actions twenty-five years ago? Why do you even care? It's a laguz matter." Naesala clears his throat. "Not that you are uninvolved, only… This is personal." 

"I do not want to imply that you and I are friends. I know that would be overstepping. But I like to think I have some wisdom, Naesala. And I know that there are many people who have been waiting for you." Sanaki examines the board. She pushes a piece forward. 

Naesala hasn't played this game in long enough that he only remembers that cheating is encouraged. With this in mind, he palms one piece as he moves another, dropping it into his sleeve. If Sanaki notices, she doesn't challenge him. A few more moves pass before Sanaki adds,

"I would like to be — to be close to you. I know that you did not want to serve me, but you did so with vigor. Most would not have held themselves to that honor in your circumstances." 

He can't hold back the start that escapes. "Few would describe me as honorable, Apostle, but I thank you for your kind words." 

"Everything you did, you did for your people. Even if it was reprehensible, it was understandable." 

"Thank you," Naesala drawls, hoping his sarcasm can seep deep. Sanaki smiles. 

"Of course. Now, I believe I have you in cross." 

He looks down at the board. "Damn." 

Her smug expression is less grating than he thought it would be. "I'm glad you're here, Naesala. I would hope you will stay in touch more." 

"I can try," he replies, ducking his head. For once, it's not a lie.

****

Naesala shows up to the party. He doesn't have anything nice to wear, but his black wings and snide smile are enough to keep people away. Queen Crimea and Queen Daein stop by out of politeness, but they're the only ones. Even Apostle Sanaki is too busy speaking with her well-wishers to glance at him. 

There's other laguz present. Ranulf stays by Skrimir's side. Young King Kurthnaga is flanked with his advisors — Naesala doesn't know their names. Kurthnaga still looks like a child and Naesala knows he will even long after Naesala is dead. That doesn't comfort him.

Then there are the other birds. Naesala avoids them. He imagines Reyson knows he's there the moment he steps into the room because Reyson has always had an uncanny ability to know where Naesala is at any given time. Tibarn probably knows because Janaff and Ulki are there and they must tell him. 

Leanne does not because she does not hunt him down. Naesala doesn't know if he should be thankful or not that the others haven't told her about his presence — he doesn't want to make her cry at a party. 

Naturally, the first person he actually talks to is Rafiel. 

He's trying so hard to avoid any white wings dancing across the floor that he slips onto an open balcony without checking properly. He practically runs into Rafiel, which is downright embarrassing. 

"My apologies, my prince," Naesala says with a sharp bow. Rafiel gives him an easy smile. 

"Hello, Naesala. Are you looking for someone?" Rafiel doesn't sound judgemental and Naesala can't bring himself to be angry. He just shakes his head. 

"No, no, I was just getting out for some fresh air." 

"Of course." It doesn't sound like Rafiel thinks he's lying, which is interesting. Naesala doesn't want to think about it. "If you would like, the children are here." 

Naesala can remember two balls of fur, tails and ears and dark skin but pale hair. It was over twenty years ago when he last saw them. They would be able to walk now, and probably actually hold conversations. Then again, Naesala's not too familiar with how wolves age, let alone heron-wolf hybrids. 

"How are they?" Naesala asks, sidestepping the question. 

The expression on Rafiel's face morphs to one that Naesala would best describe as  _ serenity. _

"They are lovely. Full of energy and inquisitive. I think you would like them." Rafiel folds his hands in his sleeves. His hair has been elaborately braided. A single white lily is perched behind one ear. 

Naesala had caught a glimpse of Leanne earlier — she's wearing something similar, though she has a different dress on that Rafiel's elegant robes. He wonders if she did his braids. He wonders if Reyson scoffed at both of them or submitted to the same treatment. Reyson always had been the odd one out. 

"Serenes is healing, you know." 

"Good for you." Naesala sighs and is about to apologize, because he's never been able to be mean to Rafiel, when the doors to the balcony fly open once more. 

Naesala immediately is on edge when Tibarn, actually wearing a shirt closed over his chest, marches out. 

"Rafiel. You." Tibarn crosses his arms. "I have to chat with Naesala. In private." 

There's a moment of silence before Rafiel inclines his head. He murmurs something about finding Nailah, almost floating away with how steady his footfalls are. More silence. Someone in the hall laughs. 

Naesala waits. He has more patience than Tibarn and they both know it. 

"I didn't think you'd actually show your face," Tibarn confesses. He rubs the bridge of his nose. "I don't know whether to punch you or throw you in there to face the herons." 

"Reyson's made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with me," Naesala points out. 

"I don't blame him. You're entire nation's away and you still have a way of getting under my feathers." Tibarn glowers. Naesala leans against the smooth stone rail. It's cold to the touch. 

It'll snow soon, he imagines. The first pathetic snow of the year, quickly turned to slush. Nothing good comes from the first of anything. 

"What were you talking about with Rafiel?" 

"Ask him yourself." Upon seeing Tibarn tense, Naesala laughs. "He was just telling me about the pups. They're here, are they not? Whoa, whoo—" He holds his hands up. "I'm just making conversation. You know I don't hurt kids."

"No, you just sell your friends to slavers." 

"Reyson forgave me for that." 

"Then you betrayed us again. He considers that a broken promise and a breach of the Alliance." Tibarn shakes his head. "He still has nightmares about it. I have to promise that he's safe. I have to be the one to tell him that no one will ever capture him again." 

Naesala is not surprised, but it still hurts. He doesn't provide any excuses. He doesn't deserve forgiveness so he doesn't ask for it. Not like Tibarn could — or would — give it. 

"If I had my way, you'd never see feather or tail from me again," Naesala reminded him. "But I told you that I would stay on the continent, then I get invited to this dashing beorc party. How's a crow supposed to resist?" 

"And that's why I keep you around."

Naesala blinks. "Because you like seeing me at parties?" He asks, purposefully obtuse. 

"Because never seeing you again releases you of the responsibility to make it up to the people you hurt." 

It's a remarkably intelligent sentence and Naesala almost says so. But this is Tibarn and Naesala would rather pluck his own primary feathers out than compliment him. 

"I cannot stop Reyson from being hurt anymore than I can bring back the people I had murdered," Naesala tells him instead. 

"No, you can't, but you can stop running. Face the consequences of your actions." 

"You don't care about me. How do I know this isn't just a fancy attempt to get me killed?" Naesala jobs, sticking his nose up. "I rather like my existence, miserable as it may be." 

"I don't want you dead. Reyson's the only one who can make that decision. Much to certain party's displeasure." Tibarn doesn't look too thrilled about it, but he's never been able to lie so Naesala nods. Before he can speak, Tibarn adds, "Leanne misses you. She thinks that you just need someone to watch out for you."

"She's in love with the charming boy who loved her brother." 

"She is missing the bastard rogue who treated her kindly when she first woke up after finding out that almost her entire family and race were killed in a massacre." Tibarn shook his head. "No, I don't know what she sees in you. I never understood why Reyson liked you either and trust me, he's tried to explain it. But I do know that there's no solution or closure for anyone with you flying around like a spring chicken." 

Naesala actually squawks at that, his face flushing as he tries to ignore the concept of Reyson explaining his feelings towards Naesala — they're all long gone, he's sure of it, and besides Naesala doesn't love him anymore either. him anymore. Not like that. 

“I thought that you would figure it out for yourself, but apparently I have to be the mature one.” Tibarn drops his arms to his sides and spreads his wings further. “By refusing to take any real steps towards forgiveness, you’re robbing not only yourself but everyone around you the option for closure.”

“Reyson doesn’t want me around,” Naesala tells him, one last attempt to stop this conversation from making sense. 

“But he cares for Leanne and Leanne needs you.” Tibarn drops his wings. “If you come by Serenes, Leanne’s got a room for you. She’s been restoring the old palace. You remember where it is, I’m sure.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He walks back inside, shutting the door behind him with deceptive gentleness. 

Naesala sighs. He looks down at his hands. It’s been a while since he woke up with them tearing marks into his skin. Longer, still, since they were covered in blood. Maybe it’s a sign. maybe it’s just his own delusions of the future.

Whatever it is, he flutters his wings and goes to find Leanne. He has an apology to make. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/ashes8012)


End file.
